Unwanted Love
by Samgirl16
Summary: A one-shot fic about Helga from Brainy's POV, set when the gang is in high school. PG-13 for cutting and suicide.


This is one-shot, from Brainy's POV. R/R plz!

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hey Arnold! So there.**

She walks through the hall again, the same angry scowl on her face as always. Her blonde hair that has been streaked with black ever since 8th grade seems to shine somehow today. A lot of people that look at her see an angry, goth/punk delinquent with a bad homelife. But all I see is an angel.

She's so different from all the other girls in our school. They're all preps, with their strawberry lip gloss and hot pink miniskirts. But she stands out from them, often clad in her black hoodie and torn jeans. They sneer at her for being different. But I respect her.

She's always been a bit of a bully with a bad attitude. But lately, she seems even unhappier than usual. And I know why.

It's because her dad left town when she was 12 and her mom's been in rehab ever since. Her sister was tragically killed in a car accident last year. So now, all she has is herself. She lives alone in her old home and works after school to pay bills and buy food. She stays alone, even in school. She has no one. Not even Phoebe, her old friend.

It all started when Phoebe got contacts, a new hairstyle, and instant popularity. She started dating Gerald, captain of the basketball team and since then, took up with Lila and Rhonda, the school snobs. She distanced herself from Helga and Helga has since then called her a sell-out and refused to speak to her. So now, Helga has no one.

She still pines for Arnold, who will never love her the way she loves him. Everyone can see that. Even she knows that. But she denies it on the inside, hoping she is wrong. She has stopped carrying her heart-shaped locket with his picture in it and no longer talks to it in public. But I know she still has it in a box with all of her poems about him. She loves him so, even though he obviously still loves Lila. I wish she would love me instead. Maybe someday she will.

She walks by me and I smile at her. For a minute the scowl leaves her face and she smiles back. Maybe some part of her heart that hasn't frozen from pain has been touched by my gesture of friendship, a simple reminder that someone still cared about her. Or maybe her smile was just an automatic response. Either way, I will hold that quick smile in my heart forever.

I watch her still as she walks away. Some strange part of me says, "Follow her." And so I do.

I follow her footsteps all the way to her locker until she finally whirls around to face me and asks, "What do you want, Brainy?"

I freeze. What do I say? My mind panics and I say the first words I can think of.

"Hi, Helga."

She blinks and then sighs. "Hey, Brainy, how the heck are ya."

I smile. She has finally answered me, instead of just punching me as she used to before. She really is an angel...to me anyway. I gaze into her eyes so fondly, hoping that somehow, she will be able to return my affection instead of turning me away. 'Oh, Helga, I've loved you for so long. Please love me back', I say to her silently. She stares back, a look of confusion crossed with uneasiness in her eyes.

"Uh, nice chattin' with ya, Brainy, but I've gotta be somewhere", she says before walking away. I watch as she walks away from me and towards Arnold, who is leaning against his locker talking to Gerald and Phoebe. I watch as she smiles shakily and greets all of them, even Phoebe. They snub her and walk away...except for Arnold. He stays and talks to her, a warm look in his eyes. Maybe I was the one who was wrong. Maybe he really does love her and not Lila.

I watch as they walk away to algebra class together and I notice that they are now holding hands. I was wrong. Arnold does love her and not Lila.

I run away and into the boy's bathroom. I find an unoccupied stall and slip into it. Taking out my pocketknife, I study my pale wrist closely before making two long cuts on it. 'Helga will never love me', I think. 'I will never matter to her the way Arnold matters to her.' I leave another long gash. My head begins to spin and my sight blurs. I can barely see my arm. But I can still see it enough to make one more large slice. As a crimson tide gushes from my wrist and on to the floor, I feel it all going black. I am dying. I sink to the floor slowly and the last words falling from my lips are, "I love you, Helga G. Pataki."

**The End**


End file.
